Kicking & Flailing
by swanqueenorgtfo
Summary: "My, my, my…you are in a mood. You'd think after blackmailing someone for a whole year your heart would soften towards them a bit." Rita's purple finger nails (or should we say talons?) gripped Hermione's wrist. Hermione liked it. She stopped and turned to her, their bodies so close. "What do you know about having a heart?"
1. Kicking & Flailing

**Kicking & Flailing**

Clipping from the Daily Prophet:  
 _Your favorite journalist, Rita Skeeter, will face charges of rape pressed by the young, stunning witch Hermione Granger. It was a quiet and bright morning in Diagon Ally when the hero Harry Potter heard screams while in the lobby of the Leaky Cauldron eating breakfast. The brave, young man rushed to Miss Granger's room breaking down the door to find Hermione Granger kicking and flailing under the strong reporter._  
 _Rumor has it that both women were half naked and Miss Granger's clothes were torn, and she was covered in scratches and bite marks._  
 _When asked how she felt about the matter the distraught reporter simply stated "Miss Granger is a very troubled little girl." When pressed for more, the worn out woman gave no comment and slammed her door in our faces._  
 _Miss Granger, however, has answered none of our responses and avoids all journalists like the plague, in fact, she's taken to locking herself away._  
 _We'll bring you more of this story with our next issue._

 **The Story:**  
Hermione felt her stomach lurch as she looked up from her book at Ron sitting across the table from her. It wasn't his face though that made her sick, it was his foot under the table inching its way up her ankle, attempting to caress. She swallowed and managed an awkward smile, trying to seem shy and nervous instead of upset.

It truly wasn't that she didn't like Ron. She loved him. It wasn't his greasy red hair or his ability to get into trouble and on teacher's nerves. She loved all of those things about him. It was the simple fact that his genitals were on the _outside_ of his body. Though Hermione would probably never voice it allowed: she was indeed 100% lesbian.

Poofy hair and books only did so much for her though and she found that as she grew, she had a much harder time keeping it hidden. The fact to simply talk to someone about it was not an option. What if her parents found out!? Dad, the catholic dentist and mum the born-again-Christian, already both at her heels about magic. She didn't like the idea of telling anyone. In Hermione's mind it would ruin her.

"Aren't you hungry?" Ron asked reaching across the table and putting his hand on hers. Hermione blinked innocently.

"Actually I don't feel very well."

His face fell. She simply adored him for caring so much. She knew she had to leave him soon. She was ruining both of their lives now, and that was just the tip of the iceberg. "Are you coming down wif something?"

She shook her head and closed her book. "I just need to take a walk and get some air," she said easily. He stood to kiss her and she turned her face last second so that he missed her lips and kissed her cheek. She flashed him all teeth. "I'll be back soon," she promised, crossing her fingers and turning to leave.

Kicking stones and going through different phases of self-loathing, Hermione walked down the streets of Diagon Alley muttering to herself. "Ron…we can't see each other anymore. It's over…that's it…goodbye." She shook her head and kicked another stone.

"Ronald…you're really sweet and I love you so much…" she rolled her eyes. How misleading would that be? She put her fingers in her hair and walked towards a store with a lovely dress in the window. It was a corset top with a long green gown to follow. Hermione exhaled painfully.

"School shopping, Miss Granger?"

 _No way_ , Hermione thought angrily. Of all the people and of all the moments, _it has to be her and this particular moment of anguish to mix together!?_ Inwardly she screamed.

"Just looking," she muttered not bothering to face her, hoping…praying she would just leave. She heard the menacing click of her heels as she stepped closer, Hermione could see her reflection in the glass.

"It's a bit on the glamorous side…for you that is, don't you think?" She was close now, mere inches away, and right next to her. Hermione looked at her chin and neck line and then away, still refusing to make eye contact. Still, the insufferable woman was too persistent. "Green isn't exactly your color, actually it would look simply dreadful with your hair. Still, the color can be altered…." Hermione finally took the bait.

She turned angrily and looked Rita Skeeter from her blond curls to her cock-roach-killing patent leather heels and back up again, her eyes sliding up the front of her dress. "Yes," she agreed. "But at least I could fit into it," she stepped closer, through gritted teeth: "without something spilling out the top." She gave a quick fuck-you-very-much smile and turned.

"Ah," Rita said following her, mildly liberated by her 'insult.' "That can be altered too, Miss Granger!" Rita caught up with her and hooked her arm with Hermione's. Hermione's heart quickened.

"Only some of us prefer that tacky method," she spat. Rita giggled.

"My, my, my…you are in a mood. You'd think after blackmailing someone for a whole year your heart would soften towards them a bit." Rita's purple finger nails (or should we say talons?) gripped Hermione's wrist. Hermione liked it. She stopped and turned to her, their bodies so close.

"What do you know about having a heart?" she let it sink in before adding. "And a softened one at that?" Rita's beautiful red lips curved up into a devious grin, her white teeth glowing.

"Can't you see the halo?" She pointed towards the empty space above her head. Hermione glanced up quickly and met her blue eyes again.

"You mean the one that's being held up by horns?"

Rita threw her head back and cackled wickedly. "Clever girl," she scoffed to herself. Hermione felt her lips twitch into a smile. "Always an answer for everything then, eh?" And it was this moment that Hermione chose to be silent. "Why not answer a few simple questions for an article I'm writing…?" Already the quill was floating in the air beside them.

Hermione snorted. "You want to write about _me_?"

"Why not? House prefect, top grades…." Hermione held up her hand to silence the woman.

"No." She began to walk passed her. Rita grabbed her arm roughly.

"C'mon," she whispered. Hermione could feel her breath on her face and neck. She smelled like whiskey and tea leaves, and Hermione's heart began to race. "Let me tell your story. There has to be something you just want to… _have out with_." Hermione pulled away and yanked her wand, pointing it defensively. Rita gasped and flung her hands up.

"I don't know what you're talking about! You ridiculous woman!" And with that she ran down the street. Rita watched her run, her thick glasses sliding down her nose. She adjusted them and made a firm resolution.

"Whether I report it or not, Miss Granger…I will have your story."

Hermione could not stop thinking about a woman that she claimed to loath and despise. Thoughts swarmed her mind. Answering her questions. Her tight skirts. Being written about. Her pale, fine skin. Having "out" with it. Fucking.

She gasped at her last thought as she ran up the stairs to her room. It was so late. She had been out, doing nothing, thinking, kicking more stones, ripping herself into even smaller pieces.

Crookshanks sat on her bed, meowing. Hermione opened the window beside her mirror. "Go on, be free," she whispered as he leapt out. She walked back towards her bed and let her body fall face down into her mattress. "Freedom is not something I can have," she said to her pillow.

"And why is that?"

Hermione leapt up, wand at the ready, but Rita was quicker. "Experliamos!" Hermione's wand flew out the window. She rushed forward, but again Rita was faster, she grabbed her arm and pushed her back.

"You'll be lucky if it didn't snap in half!" Hermione shouted. Rita ignored her and locked the window, she turned and looked at her; determination written all over her lovely face. "How did you find me?" Rita scoffed and slightly rolled her eyes.

"Have you forgotten who you're talking to?"

Hermione gave her a disgusted look. "And I suppose you just flew in here?" She sighed. "Isn't there some sort of repellent for a bug of your size," once again her eyes licked up Rita's curvaceous body. Rita felt a slight sting from that. Instantly Hermione regretted her words, and though she did not let it show…Rita knew it. Hermione cursed inwardly as she turned away from her. "Leave." She heard Rita sigh.

"Grant me an interview."

"Leave."

Rita rolled her eyes and threw her arms up. "Miss Granger, if you'll simply agree, think of how much you could do for the school, for the—" Hermione snorted.

"How much I could do for your purse, you mean?" She turned and glared. Rita winked.

"We'll all get something out of it."

Hermione turned away from her again. "Leave."

But Hermione didn't hear the slamming of any doors. She just listened while the pace of Rita's breathing changed, very subtle, and then the quiet click of her heels as she came up behind her.

"Off the record then," she whispered. Hermione could feel her breath on the nape of her neck.

"You are relentless."

"An accurate description!"

Hermione wanted to laugh and bare her soul. She wanted to tell Rita everything. She bit her tongue instead, as tears welled up in her eyes, she blinked furiously. There was silence. "Just leave me, Rita." She paused. "There's no interesting story for you here."

Rite inhaled as if enjoying a fresh aroma of good perfume or home cooking. "That's a lie," her voice was lower, quiet…serious. She suddenly took Hermione by her arms and dragged her to the mirror, her breasts pushing against her back. Hermione didn't put up much of a struggle until she saw her reflection. _No, please, I can't bear it!_

"Look here at this girl!" Rita demanded, jerking her forward and then pulling her back against her chest. Hermione gave up on the struggle. The commotion level dropped and there was a moment of silence again. "Look," Rita whispered. "So confident appearing, but that's just a matter of surface; a mask. And masks are great for short term use but after a while they begin to make you hot and itchy and it comes down to you wanting only to rip it off and take in air that isn't fake or synthetic tasting."

She pushed her from the mirror, letting her go. Hermione wanted to hide under the covers. Rita just went on though.

"And as you grew, you always knew you were different, not just magic wise of course, that merely baffled you. When you got your letter from Hogwarts it was like a puzzle coming together or more accurately: a picture coming into focus.

"And you thought, if you studied long and hard enough, maybe you'll be _fixed_ some how. Or a spell, hex, anything! Anything just to be _'fixed.'" Fixed_. Rita had spit that word angrily at her. Hermione turned from her again. Rita circled her as she went on.

"Though you are still such an angry girl, now angry at those who claim to love you because every time someone tells you that they care all you can think is 'liar! You love me and yet you are so blind!' It's like there's no one in the world."

Her speech and words were slow and cunning, like honey dripping upon a counter. Hermione let them languidly flow over her. "Since you never found that 'cure' you so desperately searched for; you looked for other ways to escape. Mr. Weasley." Hermione's lip trembled.

"He really is so fond of you. How quickly he found you too, and how long it took him to notice! And when he did you thought 'finally!'" Rita exhaled dramatically, throwing her arms out. "At last! That feeling didn't last long though, did it? It was soon replaced with dread and awful memories of all those sticky incidents in deserted classrooms, pushing his hands away…." She was so close now, whispering in her ear. "Dreading the kissing, not even closing your eyes, and stiffening against his touch." Hermione didn't feel the cold tears streak her face.

"You hide behind your books and your hair, wondering 'what if they knew? Is it visible? Can they tell yet?'" Rita paused. "All the while this anger and passion wells within you. Longing, pushing, to get out." Rita took her by the arms again and pulled Hermione against her, their faces so close, their bodies into one another. Hermione was beside herself with desire. Every time Rita touched her it was like a tiny spot of pressure was released, and though it was only a little, it was still enough to relieve her aching body.

She could feel what all of this was building up to and she was so frightened, both craving it and dreading it at the same time. Rita went on.

"It fills you, this feeling. Torturing you, begging and screaming, kicking and flailing, anything to be free! Books and potions don't work any more do they, Hermione? You're a beautiful young woman and you find that solitude isn't really what you're made for, is it?" There was silence and Hermione lost herself in Rita's cool blue eyes.

She gripped her tighter. "You just don't know what to do with all this heat, where will you put it?" She took Hermione's face in her hands. "Use me, Hermione." She stopped, so worked up herself with anticipation. "Tell me...no! _Show m_ e all about it."

Rita began kissing the wet spots under Hermione's eyes. Hermione pushed against her, fighting her at first, and then simply wanting to be near her. When at last Rita kissed her full on the lips, her tongue invading and yet so invited. Hermione gasped and put her arms around Rita's waist. The kiss strangled her as Rita tugged her hair.

Hermione stepped back and looked at her, her lipstick smeared, Hermione knew it was all over her as well. Rita came at her, this time tearing her shirt open. Hermione didn't make any moves to stop her as she kissed her neck and shoulders.

"Yes," she whispered, wiping all notion of thought or rationalization from her head. She tugged at Rita's blouse, not wanting to rip the buttons but not being able to see them either. Rita at last stood back up and held still as Hermione unbuttoned her shirt and unzipped her skirt, all of her cloths falling rhythmically to the floor. She kissed Rita's hands and sat on the edge of the bed in front of her, hugging her waist. "Please," she whispered.

"Shhh," Rita whispered, stroking her hair. She kissed her again, harder this time pressing her onto the bed, straddling her. Hermione drew her fingers down her back as she kissed down her neck, sucking and licking.

Their hands laced together and all the pain went away. Hermione felt as though Rita had lifted her off a cross she had been nailed to by her wrists and ankles for years. She felt a million heavy chains slowly being peeled off from her, and each new breath she took was like a Godsend. No, Rita was the Godsend, as her fingers revitalized yet weakened her at the same time. They were up for hours together.

Hermione stood at the end of the bed watching Rita sleep. She turned and looked at herself in the mirror. She had put on her torn blouse and panties, but neither covered very much. Her hair was mussed, her face covered with red marks from Rita's cherry kisses. Her arms, stomach, and back were covered with lacerasions and scratches from Rita's purple talons. Her right breast had a bite mark, and there was a suck mark on her neck just under her ear. Hermione loved all of these new, gorgeous wounds. This was who she really was after all. Rita had made her whole.

Suddenly, Hermione turned and looked at Rita. Rita Skeeter: the reporter! She gasped and put her hand over her mouth to muffle her sobs. Instant tears streaked her face. Why did she have to be a journalist? A trash journalist at that! Hermione turned away from her, crying. Her parents would know. Everyone would know. Ron and Harry would hate her. Professor McGonagall would probably spit on her now! What had she done?! What if they could expel her for this!? Dread filled her heart heavily again as she sobbed into her hands.

Rita, who had been sleeping peacefully, heard the muffled cries and her eyes fluttered open. She yawned and sat up on her elbows. When she saw Hermione at the foot of the bed crying, her brow furrowed, and her blond curls shook slightly as her head cocked sideways in confusion. "Hermione?"

The young girl jumped up as though Rita had spit fire at her. Rita sat up all the way, so puzzled. "Why are you…?" She stopped and exhaled, realizing the potential reason. "Hermione," she said crawling towards her in only her splendid bra and panties. "There is no shame in what we did." She came to her knees, now eye level with Hermione, who glared through angry tears.

"You got your story now, why don't you just go! Leave me!" Hermione cried. Rita scoffed.

"That is not…" She was astounded. "This was-"

"Just fucking! Rita! I was just a good fuck, wasn't I?! And now you can write all your trash reading fans about how you managed to seduce the prim and proper Hogwarts student. The Prophet should give you a raise!"

Rita took her by the arms. "This wasn't about the fucking Prophet or any other shitty newspaper!" Hermione pushed and shoved her away. They carried on struggling. "Hermione listen to me, please stop crying!" Rita pulled her onto the mattress, straddling her again, peppering her face with kisses. "Hold still and—"

That was when footsteps were heard racing up the stairs. "Hermione! Guess what Ron-!" And Harry Potter froze immediately after barging in. His eyes went from Hermione, crying and scratched up, to Rita…WHO WAS ON TOP OF HER!

That was all it took. _"Incarcerus!"_

Hermione read through the headline news of the Daily Prophet. Completely false all of it! She crumpled it up and threw it into the fire, cursing herself madly, already crying. She couldn't believe how much this whole thing had gotten out of control.

Rita certainly hadn't raped her! But what was she suppose to say?! What was she to do?!

She began to pace about her room. She had been moved from the Leaky Cauldron and put on guard. Many had asked to see her. Harry. Ron. Mrs. Weasley. She turned all of them away. She just did not know how to deal with their faces, their excuses. She wanted to leave. To take a walk…but with the guards….

Who the hell was she kidding? She was Hermione Granger. And after being best friends with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley a few guards should not be a problem.

Nearly drunk with Fire Whiskey, Rita Skeeter thrashed through the dark streets of Diagon Alley. She felt something she hadn't felt in a very long time. Pain. Her heart felt as though it had been ripped into shreds. Everyone must have thought she was a monster, and maybe she was.

Certainly not a monster that rapes though!? She heard Hermione's voice in her head crying yes! yes! please don't stop! over and over again. She stopped and leaned against an old building, squinting into the dark when she saw a thin, young figure with lots of hair bouncing behind her as she walked.

She felt her pulse quicken with anger as she headed in the same direction. Maybe she _would be_ that kind of monster after all.

She had followed her until she had gone back to her hotel, which had only been about 8 blocks from the Leaky Cauldron. And the "clever girl" still hadn't shut her window. Transforming simply and easily, Rita flew up through into her room the exact same way she had when she "raped" her.

"Don't you know you're ruining my life?"

Hermione froze.

"I mean really, really setting me up. They're talking about taking my journalist license and sending me to Azkaban!"

Hermione felt talons grip her as she was violently whirled around. "Look at me!" Hermione could smell the whiskey on her breath. She could hardly blame the woman. In fact, at that exact moment, she would have liked a few shots herself. Then Rita turned her back around and forced Hermione to bend over. "You want to accuse me of rape, Miss Granger?!" She gripped Hermione's hips and pulled them against her, taking her by the hair and pulling her back up and against her. "Go on, say no to me!" She teasingly bit the young girl's ear. "Beg me to stop! Kick! Flail! FIGHT ME OFF!" Her hands were all over Hermione; front, between her legs, squeezing her breasts.

Hermione just stood there.

Rita pushed her roughly onto her bed and walked towards the end of it, with her back to her. _This is awful,_ Hermione thought. "I must be worthless to you…really something low. You must despise me! You must hate me!" Rita said through clenched teeth. She wanted to scream: _How can you do this to me?!_

The worst and simple truth of it was that Rita saw herself in Hermione, tormented by the fact that she liked women and her only intention when she had made love to her was to give her some relief that Rita had never had when she was her age. And by showing that kind of care for someone made the give very vulnerable to the receiver and Hermione had hurt her in the worst possible way.

Hermione didn't know what to say when she realized the woman was crying. And she cried to. And the two of them stayed just like that together, crying like two fools.

Until finally, Hermione got up and walked towards Rita. She put her hands on the back of her shoulders and pressed her forehead on her spine, between her shoulder blades. "I don't hate you," she whispered. "I hate myself." Rita turned, her eyes still glazed and took Hermione's face in her hands. Hermione took her by the wrists, still crying, and covered her fingers with kisses.

"Forgive me," she begged.

She dropped to the floor and covered Rita's patent leather heels with kisses, kissing up her ankle, to her legs, her knees, her thighs, her inner thighs; hiking up her skirt as her lips traveled upwards even further. Rita sighed looking up and taking her thick glasses off. Her mascara running everywhere, she simply stood there enjoying the feeling of Hermione's tongue as the young girl's arms went around her waist. When at last her fingers clenched in the young girls hair: she too fell to her knees, immediately and roughly kissing her tasting herself on Hermione's lips. They fell on the floor together.

Hermione stood watching the rain pour outside. Rita lay sleeping in her bed in a different hotel room, yet again. She knew she couldn't let this go on any further. She couldn't be found out, but she had to clear Rita's name.

Professor McGonagall's warnings rang in her head. _Only use it for classes, Miss Granger. Never try to go back twice, and never try to alter things that occur._

But she had broken that rule once, and now came the time where she must do it again. To save the woman who had saved her. She looked down at the small, golden pendant, her time turner. Professor McGonagall had let her keep it.

She looked at Rita, she was sleeping easily, her chest rising and falling slowly. An image of them laughing in the streets together, arguing about halos, flashed before her eyes. Her mind was made up. She began to twist the tiny dial on the pendant, praying that this would not make things worse.

Within an instant she was standing at the foot of her bed at the Leaky Couldron again, Rita lay asleep in her bed. She sighed in relief.

Now came the time to fix it. She simply walked over to her door and locked it tightly, even going as far as putting a spell on it so that no one could enter. She then walked over to her bed where Rita lay and crawled in with her.

She began kissing the sleeping woman's neck, trailing to the spot between her breasts. Rita stirred, a grin spreading on her gloriously smeared mouth. "Hmmm…the perfect way to wake up." Hermione lay against her as she stretched. Rita put her arms around her and kissed her forehead.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said, her voice choked. "I'm so sorry."

Rita's brow furrowed as her head cocked sideways in confusion. "Don't be sorry, kid. I came so hard my toes went numb." Hermione giggled suddenly, so very happy that Rita had no idea what she was really apologizing about. They lay together as the sun came up.

That was when footsteps were heard racing up the stairs. "Hermione! Guess what Ron-!"

Hermione and Rita sat up in alert. Harry jiggled the door knob. "Hermione?"

"Harry, go back down stairs! I'm not decent!"

"That's for sure," Rita whispered tickling her. Hermione gasped, not being able to help grinning as she closed her hand over Rita's mouth.

"Hermione? Are you alone in there?"

"Harry! I will be down in ten minutes." She heard him heave a sigh and could just imagine the look on his face as he turned and thundered down the steps.

Rita took Hermione's wrist and kissed the hand that was over her mouth. "Ten minutes? Hmm…I think I can manage that." She put her arms around Hermione and fastened her mouth with hers.

When school started, an owl dropped a copy of the Daily Prophet in Hermione's lap everyday. Before she had left, Rita had promised she would do a story on Hogwarts so that she had an excuse to visit. All of her articles always contained some sort of message.

For example:  
 _The food at Hogwarts must get boring after some time. I am inclined to march up there myself and ask one of the students "Wouldn't you rather be eating out?"_


	2. Fixed

**Fixed**

 _"And you thought, if you studied long and hard enough, maybe you'll be fixed some how. Or a spell, hex, anything! Anything just to be 'fixed.'" Fixed. Rita had spit that word angrily at her. Hermione turned from her again. Rita circled her as she went on._

"You have to understand, Hermione…he just doesn't understand what was wrong."

"But he knew something _was_ wrong. Harry, I was being unfair to him." Harry nodded as a stick cracked under his foot. Hermione and he had always enjoyed one another's company and often snuck away on days off to walk through the woodsy areas around the lake, even venturing into the black forest on occasion.

"Even I don't understand," he confessed. They halted and Hermione leaned on a tree looking up at the cloudy sky, a small amount of blue was showing. It reminded Hermione of Rita's eyes. She smiled inwardly…secretly.

"I don't expect you to," she said. She exhaled and they started walking again. "Do you trust me?"

"Hmm…." he was teasing of course. Hermione shoved him. "Yes, of course I do."

"Then you're just going to have to believe me when I say that it wasn't right for me to stay with Ron." Her tone was even and mellow. Harry's brow knit as he stopped, she kept on ahead of him. Hermione had been different since school had started. There was a lot he couldn't explain about her these days.

She seemed to be growing more and more distant from him. When Hermione had suddenly broken up with Ron, Harry didn't know what to think. They had been dating for a fare few months. Last he and Ron had talked, things were fine between the two of them. Ron claimed they had no fights at all.

"But Hermione that still doesn't explain-"

"Harry!" she turned suddenly. "I don't want to explain right now." Now she seemed annoyed. She turned back and kept walking. Harry sighed, exasperated. He ran up behind her and put his arm around her shoulder. She was stiff at his touch, her face hard with irritation.

"Sorry, 'Mione." His tone was mocked. Her face softened into amusement. She sighed and nudged him as they continued walking.

Rita Skeeter decided she was going to Hogwarts. She put in that she was doing an assignment on Prospective Students in Magic…but really she just wanted to see Hermione. It bothered her.

This attachment that Hermione had somehow poisoned her with really bothered her.

Rita straightened her shoulders. No matter. She was just horny that was all. She sighed. "Of course that's all," she whispered, trying to convince herself. There was now this small, despicable voice in the back of her head. _Hmmm, somehow I don't think that's your only problem. We both know your wand could help you solve that,_ it said. Rita rolled her eyes.

Hermione turned the heat on the water up higher. Her long brown hair was flattened and wet against her back and steam surrounded her body. She drew the soap up her arms to her chest, stopping to examine the white ring…the scar from Rita's teeth that she had left on her breast, right above where her heart was.

She smiled to herself, feeling the raised skin. As far as she knew it was the only scar she had from that night, and it was in just the right place too. She had had several small cuts and scratches, but they had all healed naturally. She sighed longingly as she tilted her head back and let the hot water wash all over her face and down her neck. The scene between Ron and her played slowly in her head.

It had been nearly midnight and Hermione found Ron rushing to finish a potion report by the fire in the common room. She had been going through what she would tell him all day. She sat down in front of him, tucking her legs under her. He didn't even glance up. Hermione's mouth twitched into a smirk as she watched the fire reflect off his straight, red hair. She cleared her throat gently.

Ron's head snapped up and a smile spread on his pale face. Hermione wanted to smile back, but she knew that would only mislead him. "Hi," he said.

"Hi," she said quietly. She allowed her eyes to lock on his. "Ron we need to talk." She hated herself for ever dating him. For ever giving him hope. His face fell, then straightened.

"Could you help me with this first? I'm really lost."

He was trying to put her off, she knew. He knew what was coming. No matter how natural he acted about their relationship he knew something was missing. Hermione reached and took the book and parchment from him.

"We need to talk _right now_."

And she had told him that she didn't want to see him anymore. She had tried to be as cold as she could without being mean, but this was not the time for warmth. She made it as clear as she could that there wasn't ever going to be any real love between them…ever.

She felt horrid as she walked up the stairs away from him. "If you just give it time," he called to her. "You'll grow to love me." She paused and thought of simply walking, but that might give him hope since she hadn't protested. She turned slowly.

And then she said the one sentence she knew would crush that hope forever for him. "Ron…I already love you…like a brother." His face creased with disappointment.

 _I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry._

She turned and ran up the stairs before he could see the tears in her eyes.

Hermione avoided meeting Ron's eyes and she stirred her potion confidently. Professor Snape had given her Pansy Parkinson as her partner. "We should ground the butterfly wings to a really fine dust, it'll dissolve more evenly that way," Hermione explained to her.

Pansy tucked some black hair behind her ears. She smiled and rolled her eyes. "Like I care," she whispered. "I don't know what Snape was thinking giving me a mudblood for a partner."

Hermione froze and turned calmly to her. She sighed. Perhaps the Hermione from last year, the Ron's-girlfriend-Hermione had still been intact she would have just let that go and took it. Hermione was no longer that girl though. She was a deceptive mistress of another woman. The other girl was dead and buried, no need to hold back standing up for herself now.

"You know," she whispered bringing her face closer to Pansy's. "If you took these ingredients and simply added a little dragon scale and goat's hair…heating it up would then make it acidic and really dangerous."

Pansy snorted. "So?"

"So," Hermione went on, darkening her tone, and cutting her eyes. "If you don't want it thrown in you pretty face after boiling point, or accidentally spilled on your lovely, bare thighs," she paused in mock thought, boldly glancing at Pansy's exposed thighs. "Or maybe mysteriously ending up somehow in your shampoo or pumpkin juice… _well, you'd better be a little bit nicer to me_." Pansy's dark eyes met Hermione's.

"Yeah?"

"Yessss," Hermione replied, keeping her eyes locked hard on Pansy's. The Slytherin stared crossly and then scoffed.

"Let's get on with it then," she growled.

"You going to be nice?"

Pansy nodded, and they continued to work in mutual harmony. _I know my way around Slytherin women now_ , Hermione throught proudly. She couldn't wait to tell Rita.

"You two seem awfully chatty over there, Miss Granger!" Professor Snape suddenly called.

Hermione smiled sweetly at him. "I was just explaining to Pansy that we need to wait for it to boil in order to have full effect, sir." She tapped Pansy's shoulder. "Right?" Pansy smiled serenely.

"Yes, sir."

They got along fine after that. Snape stepped out of the class for a moment, not bothering to tell why. "I expect all of you to keep working," he raised a brow. "And keep to yourselves."

Not ten seconds he was out when Draco Malfoy strolled over towards them. "Getting soft, Parkinson?" He sneered as Pansy leaned closer to Hermione, they looked over their cauldron, ignoring him.

Draco walked towards Ron. "I hear Granger's sloughed you, Weasel." Hermione inhaled and ground her teeth. Ron glared.

"Mind your own business, Malfoy."

"You know," Draco went on. "It seems to me your girl over there gets along famously... _with other girls_." Hermione's head snapped up. She went back to work before her reaction could be noticed. "Can't say I blame her after having _your_ hands all over her."

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry said sternly, taking Ron's arm.

"We might as well make a T-shirt for your girl over there."

Pansy stared at Hermione. Hermione acted as though nothing was happening.

"We'll have it say ' **Lesbian Mudblood**.'"

Hermione swallowed, so scared of tears falling, she blinked furiously. Suddenly Ron had his wand out and Harry was pushing him back.

"WHAT IS GOING ON IN HERE?!" Snape bellowed rushing in to separate the boys.

Hermione whispered "stir it three more times in two minutes and let it boil then simmer." She picked up her bag and walked out while Snape was taking points from Gryffindor. If Draco had even approached her though, she would have happily thrown up all over him.

Rita, who had signed in not more than twenty minutes ago, turned the corner to see Hermione walking her way, she quickly backed up and looked around.

Hermione exhaled, her eyes spilling tears as she turned the corner thinking. _Who the hell does he think he is? He doesn't know-_

Suddenly, the closet she had been passing opened and a long pale arm grabbed her roughly and pulled her in. Hermione's scream was stifled by kisses as she fought against Rita, but the second she acknowledged her purple talons and her blond curly hair she quit struggling and put her arms tightly around her.

Rita kissed her full and hard on the mouth. Hermione was on her tip toes with desperation. _Never ever stop._ She fumbled in her robes as their mouths interlocked to find her wand, doing her best to spell the door locked and simply dropping it afterwards, to make better use of her hands.

Rita kissed her all over her face when she tasted salt on her lips. She stopped and pulled back, though Hermione was insistent they continue and kissed her along her pale neck. Rita shook her head and pulled her back. "Wait, Hermione, stop," she whispered.

She took Hermione by the face to find her eyes red and flowing with tears. Rita's brow twitched with concern. "Why are you crying?" Hermione sighed.

"Nothing really…just Draco Malfoy," she said. Rita rolled her eyes.

"Why do you let him bother you?" Her arms tightened around the young girl's waist.

"He called me a lesbian in front of the whole potions class," Hermione paused. "A mudblood lesbian."

Rita's eyes flashed with anger. "Why that little bastard," she whispered through gritted teeth. Deciding she didn't want to add to Hermione's anguish, she smirked and tried to lighten her mood. "Is that such a terrible thing to be called though?" Her hands moved upwards to grope Hermione's chest. Hermione shook her head.

"It's not even inaccurate. I just…I'm not ready for people to know yet." She looked down ashamed. Rita sighed and took her thick rimmed glasses off, and pulled her against her, their faces less than an inch apart.

"Want me to write a report on how black Draco's roots appear, that he's not blond at all and his dear mother, 'Cissa, really got him from the milk man?"

Hermione giggled as Rita gave her quick kisses on the mouth between words. "Is that what you want? You delicate, young girl, you." Hermione nodded.

"Yes." She said firmly. "That's exactly what I want." She kissed Rita on the mouth. They stood holding each other tightly.

"Anything for you, Hermione."

Hermione and Rita had stayed in the closet another ten minutes before Hermione left, heading to the closest sink and mirror to clear off all the lipstick smears and tear streaks. Rita stood there alone, reapplying all that had been smeared off and giving Hermione a two minute head start.

When she came out the corridor was empty. She stalked down the baron halls, sauntering, allowing the eyes of each portrait to trail her body. She pulled her notebook, which contained a list of names. All the best or most interesting at Hogwarts.

Jackie Blackwell was right at the top of her list. Mainly because of her family history. Three step fathers…all mysteriously dead now. A mother rumored to be involved in the dark arts. Madam Pomfrey had informed the Wizard Council for the Well Being of Children that strange marks along with severe bruises covered Jackie from head to toe.

Rita poked her head in the Transfiguration's room. Minerva McGonagall was spelling notes onto the black board. Rita felt a small tug of affection as she entered. The students all started. Rita cleared her throat. Minerva turned, her face falling into irritation. Rita smiled decadently. "Professor," she said in a darling tone. "I need to see Jackie Blackwell for just a few moments." Professor McGonagall exhaled, annoyed before nodding at Jackie who rose shyly and walked towards the door.

Her black hair surrounded her pale face. Rita offered to make an appointment so that she may interview her. The girl's eyes filled with fear and she kept on telling her no. Rita did not take no for an answer. "look here at this, dear," Rita was saying, holding a feather quill. "This takes all your quotes, accurately and honestly." Jackie took the quill and ran the smooth feather in her fingers. "And you can keep that," Rita said. Jackie's eyes lit up. "For an interview." They dimmed again.

The classes were released as they argued. They were talking in raised voices now. Rita was determined to have her story. Jackie was determined to get away from her, and keep the quill. "I don't want to be late for class!" Jackie bellowed shoving past her.

Rita's purple talons gripped her wrist…accidentally breaking skin. Jackie was used to flesh wounds though. "Miss Blackwell, I will have your story," she promised.

Jackie jerked away from her. Professor McGonagall huffed, appearing in the doorway, eyeing the cut on Jackie's wrist. "Could you be a little more careful with our students?" She sent Jackie to Madam Pomfrey and made a mental note to explain later that Jackie hadn't done it to herself.

"Don't bother that girl, Rita." Minerva said watching Rita shout threats for the girl stealing her quill. "She's troubled enough as it is."

"And what if I should bother her, Minerva?" Rita stepped close to her and raised her eyebrows. "Are you going to punish me?" Minerva's face was stern. When at last she met Rita's eyes and her lips twitched into the slightest of smirks.

"Have a good day, Rita." She nodded slightly and walked off. Rita smiled after her and sucked her teeth.

Hermione yawned as she at last set down her books and headed towards the lady's room. It was late at night. Luna Lovegood was in there rinsing her hands. She nodded at Hermione as Hermione ran some cold water over her hands and face.

One of the stalls opened and Hermione let her face fall in disgust as Rita walked out. Her heels clicked demandingly on the tiled floor. She ran her hands under cold water in the sink next to Hermione's and began to dry them as Luna walked out.

Seconds past. "Alone at last," Rita said as she came up behind Hermione and put her hands on the young girl's hips. Hermione stared at her in the mirror and watched as she kissed her neck. Hermione took her hands and pulled them around her waist. Rita immediately began to grope her.

Hermione watched her hands work eagerly over her front. She laid her head back on Rita's shoulder wanting to keep the image of their reflection like this forever in her mind.

"I missed you," she confessed at last. Rita wrapped her arms around her tighter and smiled at her in the mirror.

"I have a little time here." She kissed her neck a few more times. Biting her lightly. Hermione closed her eyes in ecstasy. "Maybe I could interview you at Hogsmead…you can buy me a drink…and we can sneak off to somewhere private. Just you and me."

Hermione took both of her hands, lacing her fingers and drawing her arms around her. "Whatever you want," she said. Rita unlinked thier hands, her eyes darkening as she watched Hermione in the mirror. She worked them inside the young girl's robes, between her legs, stroking her bare thighs and teasing the lining of her white panties. Hermione's heart raced.

"Now if that were true," Rita whispered. "we would be doing this in the Great Hall," she breathed into her ear, as Hermione trembled against her.

"Imagine that."

When Hermione told Harry that she was meeting Rita Skeeter at Hogsmead, his black brows raised in question. "Well…maybe it would be good for the school." Hermione kicked herself for not creating a reason or excuse earlier.

"But… _you hate her_. She'll twist your words. Hermione…you're going to willingly give Rita Skeeter an interview. She's a snake. She's-"

Suddenly Hermione's eyes flashed with rage. Harry couldn't help the mixture of fear and confusion on his face. Inwardly, Hermione couldn't bear to hear ill words towards Rita. This was a bad sign she knew.

She exhaled and simmered. "Harry, just let me worry about it. I did blackmail the woman for a year. It's the least I can do." She was already putting books in her bag to leave.

"I'll probably be back pretty late. She says it's extensive."

Harry stared, his brow twitching. "What is it for?"

Hermione pretended to sound disinterested. Her words were droll and mono-toned. "Mmm….some sort of article for the best and most interesting students of Hogwarts," she looked up at him. "I hear your name's on her list too."

Harry snorted. "What a surprise."

Hermione sighed and threw her bag over her shoulder. "We'll see what happens," she said optimistically, trying to keep coyness from her tone.

"Good luck," Harry called as she walked out. Hermione's heart was pounding so loudly she barely heard him.

Hermione stared at the blond reporter sitting directly across from her. The table they were at was small, round, and wooden. No one noticed the two pairs of feet pushing at each other in a game beneath. Rita was digging in her bag for parchment. "Ah-ha!" Her lovely eyes lit up with triumph as she set a small writing pad on the table.

"Let's order drinks first, hmm?"

Hermione nodded. Rita looked around when she spotted Rosmerta. She waved her over, eagerly. Rosmerta's dirty blond curls were held sloppily up in chop-sticks. Her gorgeous smile and island tan were all too tempting, and the fact her hair gave her that smooth, just-fucked-real-well look made it impossible for anyone to look at her without drooling.

Rita smiled. "My, you're looking well today." She was not too shy to blatantly stare at her hips and, her eyes roving up the woman's front to her beautiful eyes.

Hermione's face fell as they chatted eagerly. She heard Rita order and her pulse quickened with rage. Rita watched Rosmerta walk away, almost in longing.

"Well," Hermione said, her jaw clenched. 'Why don't you just take her upstairs?" Rita turned and looked at her, her face a mixture of slyness and caution.

"Jealous?" Her tone was slippery as she ran her spiked heels up Hermione's leg. Hermione got up quickly.

"If all you're in the mood for is a quick fuck, she's standing behind the bar over there." She slung her rucksack over her shoulder and headed for the door. Rita quickly rose though and took Hermione roughly by the arm. She began to drag her towards the steps to the rooms upstairs.

Hermione clawed at the hand gripping her wrist as she was pulled upwards. It wasn't a very long staircase though and soon they were in the room halls. Rita held Hermione against the door to their room. Hermione pushed back against her. Rita put her fingers in Hermione's hair, tugging her face close to hers.

"Let me go! Leave me!"

Rita shook her head and managed to get the door open…which was a mistake because the only place that got them was on the floor inside. Hermione felt dizzy as the wind was knocked from her. The floors were a cold, hard wood…and Rita's solid body was gorgeously heavy atop her. She couldn't breath, and she felt as though her ribs were broken. Still, even with the anger and the pain…it was her favorite place to be.

Collapsed and unable to struggle any longer, Hermione heaved in sighs as Rita nuzzled her neck and held her arms down, pinning her. She sat up, having to hike her vinyl, green skirt to her thighs, straddling the young girl. Hermione's heart raced quietly in her chest as they stared into one another's eyes before Rita bent closer to Hermione's face.

"I guess I might as well tell you Hermione…it's pointless for you to be jealous of anyone." She leaned closer so to confess in Hermione's ear. " _All I think about is you."_

Again Hermione felt the wind knocked out of her. So she wasn't alone in this _obsession_ …this twist of love that made her mind ache and her heart race. Rita felt all of it too. Hermione wrapped her thin arms around the curvaceous woman and pulled her against her harder. Rita pulled back and putting her hands on the side of Hermione's face, she ran her cool tongue over her lips, tracing them before kissing her. Suddenly pulling her up so quickly and so urgently Hermione felt the color drain from her face.

She heard the door slam shut, assuming Rita had simply kicked it and the next sensation she felt was her back being pushed into a soft mattress and her coat being pulled from her. Deciding she was sick of the lower position, Hermione pushed against Rita with all her force and managed to roll on top of her. Stunned, Rita collapsed against the bed and stared up at Hermione. She took her glasses off and set them aside. Hermione began to quickly unbutton Rita's green blazer before taking down her blond curls.

It didn't take much force to push Hermione off her and straddle her again. They fought like that, tugging and pulling at one another. Biting and kissing. Hermione looked up at Rita breathlessly before sitting up and kissing her bare neck, then her lips and face. Rita wrapped one arm around Hermione and took Hermione's hand in hers, pushing the young fingers between her legs. Hermione knew just what to give her as she sucked on her neck, her fingers working eagerly.

Rita held her tighter and moaned, moving against her. Her chest heaved against Hermione's so much that Hermione herself trembled from it. Rita was so hot and so wet in her hands Hermione wondered how her flesh wasn't being seared clean off. She wondered if she continued to stroke her, maybe she could create a small river in Hogsmead.

They kissed passionately as Rita pushed Hermione against the bed again and began performing on her in the same fashion, this time they tore at one another's clothes, neither of them satisfied until the other was naked.

"This has to be over," Hermione said breathlessly between kisses. "Soon. It has to stop." Rita shook her head, kissing Hermione roughly all over her face.

"I suppose I could fly away, and never come and see you. You could abstain from reading the profit at use charms to forget me," Rita said panting. "If you really want this to be over."

Hermione had already died a little just thinking about being without her. She moaned as Rita pushed at her harder, penetrating her. "No. There is no magic cure for what you've infected me with. No elixirs or medicines or chemicals." Rita bit her along her shoulder blades. "I'd rather be your sick little girl than go back to the healthy faker I was before."

It was nearly dawn when Hermione finally stumbled into the common room. The fire was now just simmering coals, turning gray. Hermione's head was spinning, thinking that she had been just as hot as those coals were not more an hour ago. It was a wonder they hadn't burned the sheets.

 _All I think about is you._

Hermione's lips curved into a smirk. She looked down at herself. Her half torn clotehs. Her lipstick stained skin. Her mussed hair. She loved the way she looked after Rita was finished with her. She felt a song of contentment rising within her. She began to hum at first, then sing full words.

 _"My dear, sweet one_  
 _Your arms: so strong_  
 _Your touch: hot as the sun_  
 _You fix all that's wrong…."_

She had heard her mother singing it once, she recalled. She was spinning around the common room, half singing before trudging up the steps to collapse in bed and dream of what just happened.

Dancing and singing in her ecstasy Hermione hadn't noticed her friend Harry who had witnessed her celebration, and couldn't help but notice that she looked like she had been through the wood at back. Now as he watched her giggle and sing up the steps he was very…very confused.

It was true that Hermione and Rita were deserving happiness at this point in their life. They would have been content enough to continue to sneak around and send wanting letters when they could not be together. But just six hours after Hermione had collapsed in bed, at 9 A.M. in the morning, a terrible discovery had been made.

Jackie Blackwell lay in a pool of her own blood. Severus Snape, who had tripped over her body as he was walking down the stairwell, was not certain if she was still alive or not. He had immediately summoned Minerva and Albus, but they had not yet arrived.

Severus ran his hand over her stone-cold forehead, kicking himself for not apparating to his class room. This girl was dead alright. He shook his head when he realized she had not finally slit her wrists, the bleeding was from a head wound. He stood and stared down at her colorless body…when he noticed something green and shiny clutched in her blood stained hand. He knelt again and pulled a green quill from her cold fingers. He examine it, puzzled at first, and then he went with the first conclusion that popped into his head.

"Skeeter." Her name was no more than a hiss upon his lips.

Harry stared at Hermione as she studied. So many questions had been running in his head. Where had she been all night? Why did she look like such a train wreck but act happier than he'd seen her in weeks? Did Rita have anything to do with it? Didn't Hermione still hate Rita? Harry sighed and looked at Ron, who was a few seats towards the other end of the table. He then went back to scrutinizing his friend.

"I do realize that you have been staring at me all morning," Hermione said finally, ending her sentence with a sigh. Harry quickly looked down at his potions book.

"Well, it's just-"

But Harry noticed Hermione's eyes and mind had moved to a different subject. He looked behind himself to see Rita Skeeter entering the great hall. "What is she doing here at lunch time?"

Hermione ignored his question. Harry's brow knitted at the spark in her eyes. "Be right back," she muttered, quickly rising and practically sprinting over to her.

"Good morning, Miss Granger," Rita said. "Talking to me in public now?" Rita whispered under her breath. Hermione looked at her crossly.

"I think its okay as long as you pester me for more interviews and I storm away after every conversation we have."

Rita giggled. "I'll enjoy the view as you go," she whispered.

Harry watched as they spoke. Hermione crossed her arms, looking very angry, but there was something else in her mannerism that just didn't make sense. He noticed she was almost on her tip-toes. Rita seemed the same. Pleasant and petulant. What were they talking about? He was about to summon a hearing charm when a bunch of teachers strolled in.

Professor McGonagall, followed by Professor Dumbledore and Snape stalked in. They were a grim trio as they headed right for Rita and Hermione. "Rita Skeeter," McGonagall called. Rita turned to them, smiling sweetly at first, but her smile faded when she saw their expressions.

"Yes?" She stepped towards them from Hermione.

"Can you please inform us of where you were last night?"

Without glancing at Hermione or even giving a moment of hesitance: "I was in my room alone at Hogsmead, working on a new story," she lied effortlessly.

"Is there anyone who can vouch for you?"

Rita rolled her eyes annoyed and spread her hands. "I just said I was alone."

"What time did you turn in?"

"Early, just after dinner time."

"Did anyone see you go to your room?"

Rita rolled her eyes. "Well how should I know? I'm staying at Rosemerta's."

McGonagall sighed and shared a glance with Snape. "Then I am afraid we must place you under arrest and take you in for questioning." Quick as a fox, ropes shot from Snape's wand, tying Rita's wrists together. Hermione's heart seized up. Rita's eyes widened and her jaw dropped.

"What!? What for!?"

"Murder," McGonagall's tone was thick and hard. A gasp shuddered through the great hall. "Jackie Blackwell was found dead this morning."

Rita paled. "Well, so what?! I wasn't anywhere near her."

"Quite the contrary," Snape said. His tone was oddly filled with kindness. "This was found with her," he held up Rita's green quill. Hermione's stomach dropped. "And Professor McGonagall has said she witnessed a bit of a struggle between the two of you just yesterday."

McGonagall's eyes went to the floor. Rita couldn't believe what she was hearing. "But…but tha-….that doesn't mean…."

But they were dragging her away. Hermione's heart pounded in her ears. Her Rita was being dragged from her. Her first who had made love to her for hours and to whom she had confessed her forbidden love to…taken from her. She couldn't let it happen. She would go mad and die. It was in her control after all.

"WAIT!"

Everything froze. Rita looked back at her, her brow knitted. She shook her head. Hermione nodded. Professor McGonagall looked beside herself. "Miss Granger? What is it?"

Hermione's eyes locked on Rita's for a moment. Hermione swore she could hear her voice in her head almost chanting _You don't have to_ … Hermione shook her head. "Yes I do," she whispered. She then looked at McGonagall.

"Professor I know that Rita could not have killed that girl last night." She swallowed and inhaled. "I know this…I know this because she was with me." McGonagall's jaw dropped and her face paled. " _She was with me all night_."

 _I love her._

The phrase repeated itself.

Y _es. I love her. Love her! **Love her**!_

It was almost unbearable.

 _ **I LOVE HER!**_

Rita and Hermione sat across the room, this intrusive and chanting thought, took over both their minds as Snape, McGonagall, and Dumbledore paced about, speaking as if they weren't there.

The scene played itself in Hermione's head. All Hermione wanted to do was run to Rita and be with her. All the reasons to not be with her, which once struck her as valid, were now mere trifles that she could easily over look.

Her age. Her parents. Her friends…well…she doubted Harry would even want to look at her now. And Ron? Hermione shook her head.

"This arrangement is to stop immediately!" Professor McGonagall had said, placing a disgusted tone on the word 'arrangement' There were no grounds for expulsion. After all, there were no rules against spending the night with an older woman. They wouldn't want to do that to her, their best student, anyway. Rita now had an air tight alibi, as plenty of people had seen her with Hermione. So her love was free, in many different ways.

Still, there was an aching pain that existed within her. Her hand went instinctively to her heart when McGonagall had ordered "it" to stop. "But I love her!" Hermione had cried in a desperate whisper. The tension grew thicker as McGonagall tightened her jaw, and Rita couldn't help but give Hermione a dreamy eyed look.

"Miss Granger, you are a child. You don't know what you want," was all McGonagall could come up with. Hermione felt a cold tear streak her face as she turned and gave McGonagall a worn expression. She opened her mouth to protest, but Rita did it for her.

"If there's any student in this school that has even a remote idea of what they want, it's Hermione." Rita looked at her with certainty. " _And she is no child._ "

Hermione smiled slightly now. That had been her favorite part. It had been made clear that Hermione had not been abused. She knew exactly what she had been doing the whole time, and she wouldn't take back a minute of it. She finally arrived in her common room, late again because she simply couldn't bare anyone staring.

She walked into see the familiar scene of the dying fire, the warm light, the dead silence. To think she had been here last night like this. She sat in a chair in front of the fire and stared at the smoldering coals. She had danced and sang.

 _All I ever think about is you._ Rita's face flashed in her mind. She sat back in the chair, the hearth warming her face.

Softly she sang: "My dear sweet one…." Her voice cracked and she began to sob. "My one, my love…."

Harry had tossed and turned all night. He couldn't believe what had happened yesterday. This explained everything. Hermione had confessed she had been with Rita, and before the odd pair had been dragged out, Hermione looked back at him with such...shame in her eyes?

It was still dark when Harry walked down to the common room. He froze when he saw his friend asleep on a chair in front of the fire, which was now mere dying embers. He watched her chest rise and fall quietly. She had probably cried herself to sleep. His friend. His smart friend who got the best grades. His clever friend who had saved him more than once. His friend who likes girls.

He quietly stepped forward. "Psst…." he tried to be as quiet as he could. "Hermione," he whispered. "Psst." Hermione woke with a start. She looked at Harry, her expression lightening at first, and then dread covered her face.

"Sorry," she grumbled. She got up and began to go up the steps towards the girls room.

"Hermione," Harry whispered. Hermione froze and turned.

"Harry…it's not like I have a choice." She shook her head. "What do you want?" Harry searched his friends face.

"Um…want to go for a walk?"

It was awkward as they walked slowly through the safer part of the woods. Hermione was certain Harry would not want to speak to her once he new the truth. Yet Harry didn't quite understand why Hermione hadn't told him in the first place.

"You know… _it's okay_ ," he said finally. Hermione stopped and looked at him.

"Really?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah…I mean. I just wish you had told me sooner." The corner's of Hermione's mouth turned upward. She shrugged.

"I didn't think you'd understand. Hardly anyone does." Harry nodded.

"Yeah, but it's no one else's business, and now everything makes so much sense. To be honest, I'd have never come to this conclusion," he admitted smiling. Hermione smirked and shrugged her head.

"I was scared to death it was so obvious."

"Only to Ron."

Hermione's heart seized up and she stopped in her tracks. Harry winced. "I'm sorry," he said. "It's not like he insisted it or anything, I just remember we were talking once and he said that he wouldn't be surprised." Hermione narrowed her eyes.

"When was this?"

"Just after you two had had that fight…erm…well the one about you not wanting to-"

Hermione shook her head smiling sarcastically, holding her hand up to halt his words. "Yeah…that was not pleasant." She exhaled as they continued walking.

"So now what?" He walked a few feet ahead and turned to look at her. "No more sneaking around. No more hiding it. You have everything."

"I don't know," Hermione said as she leaned on a tree. Harry was right. The possibilities were endless, and at least Hermione had the feeling of nothing but a sense of ease and joy, as she smiled out towards the rising sun.


End file.
